


romancing the djoosicorn

by screamlet



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Shapeshifting, Soft Hockey Boys, a glance into north american shapeshifter healthcare bureaucracy in professional sports, beags shapeshifts into a dog that is not a beagle and it's important to me that you know that, nothing happens in this story except boys being loving and supportive of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 10:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14330715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/pseuds/screamlet
Summary: It happened so quickly that Andre couldn’t look away as Christian transformed into a white horse in front of his eyes.He was a white horse with a long, iridescent horn coming out of the center of his forehead.“Fuckingshit,” Andre whispered.Christian the horse—the fucking unicorn—finally turned around, his hooves clopping becausehe had fucking hooves now. He looked at Andre with the most pitiful eyes Andre had ever seen.“No,” Andre said. “No, don’t be sad.”





	romancing the djoosicorn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babygotbackstrom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babygotbackstrom/gifts), [angularmomentum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angularmomentum/gifts).



> thank you #dirtbags for prompting and reading and encouraging this absolute nonsense the whole way through!!!!!!! ilu!!!!!

Andre was, maybe, kind of pretty bad at the flirting thing? At least, that was what Andre thought since it was the middle of the night, they had practice tomorrow, and Christian was showing Andre to the spare bedroom in his apartment rather than…

He could say it. Andre could say it. What was so hard about saying it? _Take me to bed. Djoos, take me to bed_. 

God, no no no no no no no he would say _that_ and somehow Nicke would find out and Andre would never have sex again. 

_Christian_ , he would whisper. _Take me to bed_.

“You need anything?” Christian asked. “Bura? You—you need anything?”

No. No, not tonight.

“Night, Djoos,” Andre said, shutting the bedroom door on his face.

Andre undressed and climbed into bed. Christian rented the top floor of a house from an old couple in the suburbs, almost out where Nicke and Ovi lived where everything was woods and the Uber drivers got scared because the streets had no lights. Andre began to drowse, but he thought he could never live in such a quiet place. He needed city sounds, like cars and sirens and trains and—

Andre woke with the sun in his eyes and an echo in his head like hoofbeats. He stayed in bed for a minute, trying to remember if he had dreamed of horses. When was even the last time he had seen a horse? 

He heard a couple of sharp raps on the door and there was Djoos. 

“We need breakfast and I ran out of food,” Christian said. “Did you hear me knocking?”

Andre yawned. “I thought it was horses. A horse. I think I had a dream with a horse.”

Christian’s eyes narrowed. “Well, that’s weird.” He always looked a little cranky, but Andre thought it was different this morning. Christian looked tired and moved his jaw in a funny way, like he was trying to look tough or like something was stuck in his back teeth. 

While Andre sat up in bed and looked around for last night’s shirt, Christian lingered in the doorway another moment before he left. Andre slipped his shirt over his head and tried not to feel too hurt that Djoos wasn’t a morning person, and that Andre wasn’t his favorite person this morning. 

*

Ovi moved like a plane taking off, the air around him screaming as he raced towards Andre. He slammed Andre into the glass at the practice rink and put his hands up on either side of Andre’s head, his body pressing hard against Andre’s. 

“You thinking?” Ovi asked.

“No.”

“You hurt?”

“No.”

“Why you thinking?”

“I dunno.”

“ _What_ you thinking?” 

“Nothing!”

Ovi pushed off to give Andre a little space, then shoved himself forward again to smash Andre against the glass like a bug. Andre grabbed his jersey and tried to swing himself around, managing to use Ovi’s weight against him to free himself and shove Ovi against the glass in return. Ovi laughed, _delighted_ at someone, anyone, roughing him up. Andre bit his lip and tried not to look so happy that someone liked him.

“You go to Djoos again?” Ovi asked. 

“His house is quiet.”

Ovi laughed. “And ours isn’t? _Yours_ isn’t?”

“Sometimes he won’t come to mine,” Andre said. “Says it’s too loud, too many houses.”

“I thought he was from a city,” Ovi said. “Maybe he wants to live on a farm. You think we do that? He like that team building? Go pick apples then play with horses?”

“Pick apples?” Andre asked. “Ugh. Gross. Apples suck.”

“You buy bad apples!” 

They tussled for a few minutes, Ovi trying to get an arm around Andre’s chest, the two of them dropping their sticks to play fight until they got whistled at by the coaches. 

As they picked up their sticks and continued to shove at each other, Nicke arrived and skated a slow circle around them. He side-eyed like the best of them and Andre tried to stop himself from chewing on his glove. 

“Nicke,” Ovi said. “Andre’s still buying those cheap ugly apples. Tell him to come see the farmer’s market by us.”

“You buy fruits now?” Nicke asked Andre. “I’m impressed.”

“I eat sometimes.”

“You eat all the time, but it’s mostly garbage, isn’t it?”

“Nicke,” Ovi said, clicking his tongue. “He was thinking so hard, didn’t you see him?”

“Thinking?” Nicke asked. “About what?”

“Oh, _WELL_ ,” Ovi said as he skated out of Nicke’s orbit. “I’LL NEVER TELL,” Ovi sang over his shoulder as he took his place in line again. 

Nicke led Andre to the other side of the ice and the other shooting line. He dropped his voice as he said, “You’re not all over Djoos today. Something happen? You said you were going to come by last night.”

“I forgot,” Andre lied. “No, nothing happened. I stayed with him.”

“You stayed at his place?” Nicke asked. “Or you… stayed with him.”

Andre didn’t want to say, but with Nicke? Not saying was as good as saying. 

“At his place,” Andre said. “He lives way out in a little house with a little old couple on the first floor, and there’s woods and no streetlights like where you and Ovi live, and it’s quiet and those bugs scream all night and I thought I heard horses. There’s no horses here, right?”

Nicke stared at him. “Wild horses? No? Maybe there’s a farm near him.”

“It’s not enough woods for a farm,” Andre said. “It was weird. I’m not gonna do that anymore.”

“Do what?”

“I’m not gonna—I don’t want to go to his place and hope he asks me to stay for real, not just stay and sleep alone and hate him and hate myself for thinking something would happen.”

For a minute, Nicke almost looked like he respected Andre. Then the coaches whistled and Andre had to pair up with Djoos for some puck battles. When Djoos didn’t want to move, he didn’t move; he could plant his legs and dig his skates into the ice and more than once, bigger guys (like Andre—like Tom, even!) had tried to knock him over and just fell over because he wouldn’t be moved. 

Andre arrived at the spot and shoved him hard before they started and caught Djoos off his guard. Djoos stared at him and shoved him right back, the two of them getting into it just as someone whistled and they had to fight for the puck for real. Andre elbowed him and could hear the air knocked out of him, but Djoos did the thing, planting his legs and shoving his shoulder firmly into Andre. He didn’t give an inch until Andre slipped around, like he had with Ovi, and turned him a little, hauling him around and shoving him away. 

It was _good_ , the way Djoos bit his lip and glared at Andre, huffed through his mouthguard, shoved him and fought him and pushed him until they heard the whistle again. Andre left and moved to the other side of the ice. 

When he looked over his shoulder, Djoos looked away and at his next opponent. His eyes darted to Andre’s again, then flicked down to the puck, his skates, the ice, anything but Andre.

“Don’t break our d, Burky,” Beags yelled at him. Andre never made it to the end of the line; instead, he threw himself at Beags and there was a little scuffle again, this time with Beags and Carly and Eller, too, while Kuzya whined in the back about the rough boys and how they scared him. Andre ended up pinned again and laughed, struggled against the bigger guys holding him down.

Djoos was watching. When was he going to do something but watch?

*

While Andre was changing in his stall, someone came to stand over him and politely cleared his throat. Andre pulled his head through his shirt and looked at up at Djoos.

“You want tacos?” Djoos asked. “I have.”

“You said you have no food.”

“No breakfast,” Djoos said. “I have dinner.”

Andre tried not to look like he was considering it but, fuck, he _was_ considering it. Why was he as stupid as everyone thought he was? “You come to my place. I’ll order.”

“Not tonight,” Djoos said.

“Why not?”

“I can’t.”

“But I can come over?”

“Yes.”

Andre gave him a look he had been working on for a long, long time: his best mix of bratty and shitty, part disgusted Jojo and part disdainful Nicke. It seemed to work—Djoos shifted his weight and brought a hand up to the nape of his neck like he was embarrassed. Did he _get_ embarrassed? 

“Maybe another night,” Djoos said. “I can come over.”

“If you want,” Andre said. He shrugged, too, so he could show how handsome he was and how much he didn’t need this shitty boy jerking him around without _actually_ jerking him around. 

“Okay,” Djoos said. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Sorry I can’t—I can’t tonight.”

“You asked me tonight.”

“Yeah, but—” Djoos looked annoyed with himself. 

“Tell me,” Andre said, in Swedish.

“It’s nothing,” Djoos replied. He left and Andre tried not to stare after him.

*

Even with his own house closer to the city, Andre still came to Nicke and Ovi’s a couple of nights a week. Sometimes it was taco night at Carly’s with the baby; sometimes Djoos lingered and asked him to come over; sometimes he wanted to lie in his own bed in front of his own fireplace and let a Netflix show talk him to sleep; sometimes his nosy gay dads wanted to make sure he was eating and listen to the stupid questions he asked as they caught up on TV. 

Tonight it was Nicke and Ovi’s turn, but neither of them were in the house when Andre arrived. Andre had actually remembered to bring beer this time as a gift, so he put it in the fridge and as he moved away, he spotted a massive grey wolf wandering close to the edge of the treeline at the edge of Nicke and Ovi’s property. The wolf flinched, then looked directly into the house, directly at Andre. 

Oh, he had left the fridge door open. Nicke always hated that.

Andre wandered out into the yard through the sliding glass doors. He spotted the wolf and called out, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” Ovi asked, coming into view from the other direction.

“He looked up from all the way over there and saw I left the fridge open,” Andre said, pointing at the wolf. “I swear he sent a message to my mind that was like, _close the door, idiot, or I’ll maul you in your sleep_.”

“He wouldn’t wait for you to be asleep,” Ovi said. “And he’s a wolf.” 

“Yeah…”

Ovi also pointed at the wolf coming towards them. “He’s a wolf. They’re big dogs. He probably heard you and smelled you as soon as you climbed out of the car.”

Nicke the wolf ambled over and nosed at Andre, then stood up on his hind legs and pawed at Andre’s chest. “What, you trying to knock me down, huh?” Andre asked. “You hear what your husband said? You’re a big dog. A BIG DOG.”

Nicke grumbled and nipped at Andre without actually biting him. He dropped back to all fours and left again, going directly for the giant pile of leaves that were perfectly collected at the edge of the yard. 

“He’s not like a dog,” Andre said. “He’s still Nicke. Any dog would run into that big pile and jump into it.”

“He just changed, he’s tired,” Ovi said. “But he’s still Nicke. Of course he’s still Nicke. We’re shifters. We don’t change. We shift.”

Shifting always seemed like magic to Andre, whose family never had shifters. They weren’t uncommon or unusual—they weren’t even rare on their team, boasting one of the largest percentage of shifters in the league. Still, seeing his friends as their animal forms always intrigued Andre. He slowly approached the heap Nicke had curled up into and sat down next to the wolf, gently stroking his head, his front legs, his back. Nicke’s eyes were almost the same eyes set in that wolf face, watching him quietly and curiously, even through his exhaustion. 

“That’s why you’re so mean this week?” Andre asked. “You put off shifting too long?”

Nicke huffed and hid his face away. It was as good as an eye roll and a dismissive glare—better, even, since human Nicke couldn’t snort so derisively. 

“Schedule’s bad these past few weeks,” Ovi said. “Shifting’s always harder for him, coming in and out of it. I can do a morning here or a night there, but he needs time before and after.”

“Wonder why that is,” Andre said. He continued to stroke Nicke’s wolf back; Nicke would have bared his teeth by now if he wanted to be alone and untouched, as he sometimes did. 

“Different for everyone. Maybe it’s age. Swedes. Maybe he doesn’t want to come back.” 

“Don’t give him ideas,” Andre said. “Wouldn’t you, if you could still play hockey as a bear?”

“What? Stay as a bear?” Ovi scoffed. “I like fucking too much. Sex is boring as an animal. Not the same, when we’re different species.”

Andre made a face. “Gross, you’re like my dads, don’t tell me.”

“The hockey’s good, too.” Ovi leaned down and ruffled Andre’s hair. “Come on, let’s grill and eat, and maybe big bad Nicke will sit on your feet.”

Before Ovi grilled, he and Nicke the wolf joined Andre in the kitchen to supervise him making mashed sweet potatoes because Ovi had a sweet tooth and Nicke, even as a wolf, didn’t trust Andre not to burn their house down while doing something as simple as boiling potatoes in water for 25 minutes. 

“The internet says I can microwave them,” Andre said. 

“I know you,” Ovi said, with some nudging at his thigh from Nicke. “You start responsible and microwave one potato at a time, then you cut corners and microwave nine and the potatoes explode in the microwave.”

“Oh yeah, that can happen,” Andre said. “I forgot.”

“And if you cook dinner for a boyfriend, this is good time to let him talk about himself,” Ovi said. “You watch the pot and the time, get your other ingredients out, ask him about himself.”

Andre did none of those things. Nicke, wolf-bored, wandered out into the yard again. When Ovi came back to the stove, he nudged Andre’s side and opened the fridge. 

“You thinking again?”

“I can think sometimes.”

“But you _don’t_.”

“I do!”

“What’s bothering you? _Who’s_ bothering you?” 

“I dunno,” Andre said, but of course he knew, and of course Ovi probably knew, and Nicke did, too, somewhere behind his wolf-brain. “I want Christian to make a move, you know?”

“ _Christian_?”

Andre made a noise (a very demure squawk, in his opinion) and dodged Ovi reaching for his hair again. “You don’t call him _Backy_ or _Backstrom_ while you’re with him, you know, it’s weird, it’s a hockey nickname, and—”

“I’m so glad I’m not young anymore,” Ovi sighed. “I’m so lucky.”

“Shut up,” Andre laughed. “It’s not like shifting that _everyone_ knows sometimes you have to become a wolf or a bear, I don’t _know_ if he actually wants to date me or if he’s just—”

It felt like a dirty word, _lonely_. It shouldn’t have been, but it still lingered in Andre’s mouth.

“Ask him,” Ovi said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “You get a boyfriend or a friend. Can’t lose.” Ovi clapped him on the back and pointed to the ingredients out on the counter. “Potatoes almost done, so text your boy and follow the recipe. I’m going to grill.”

“You should have a baby so I can just babysit while you and Nicke cook, like Carly and Gina,” Andre whined. “Cooking’s boring.” 

“You wait until we have our ten babies and they only want uncle Andre,” Ovi said. “You remember you said that.”

“Shit,” Andre muttered.

*

They won their home game the next night. An evening and a day as a wolf had put Nicke in better spirits—when Nicke was happy, Ovi was happy, and when they were happy, the team was happy. 

Now it was late, the game long over, and Andre was still in the underground parking lot of Capital One Arena. Djoos was still lingering at Andre’s car, talking to him and making him laugh, and the more Djoos made him laugh, the more Andre wanted to kiss him. Something must have showed on his face, because Christian stopped and nudged Andre with the toe of his shoe. 

“You okay? Tired?” He looked at his watch and winced. “Oh, it's late. I’m sorry—”

“I know,” Andre said. “I’m not sorry. I’m—yeah, I’m tired, but—”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll—”

“Djoos, kiss me, please.”

Christian froze and stared at him.

“Or don’t,” Andre said quickly. “I’m sorry. I like you a lot. I thought maybe you wanted—”

Christian was still staring at him, but now he was shaking, too. 

“Could you say something, please?” Andre asked. “I’m sorry I said anything, okay? I want to be your friend first, but I thought maybe if you—”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

Christian fell to the ground, his perfect crisp game suit crumpling as his body seized up. Andre kneeled next to him and put his hands on Christian’s shuddering body, but Christian shoved him off. 

“No, no, please, don’t touch me, I— _don’t look_.”

It happened so quickly that Andre _couldn’t_ look away as Christian transformed into a white horse in front of his eyes.

He was a white horse with a long, iridescent horn coming out of the center of his forehead.

“Fucking _shit_ ,” Andre whispered. 

Christian the horse— _the fucking unicorn_ —finally turned around, his hooves clopping because _he had fucking hooves now_. He looked at Andre with the most pitiful eyes Andre had ever seen.

“No,” Andre said. “No, don’t be sad.” 

Andre came closer and reached out a hand where Christian could see him. Christian seemed to nod and show his neck to Andre, so that was where Andre laid his hands on him. His hair, as a horse, was white but almost grey with streaks of that blonde that was Djoos’s. Andre stroked him gently and Djoos, fucking insanely enough, closed his eyes and seemed to relax. 

“You’re amazing,” Andre said, very, very, quietly. “But how are you going to get home?”

It was still Djoos under that shining white coat and iridescent spiral horn coming out of his forehead—Andre knew that bitchy glare anywhere. 

“All right, let’s find the freight elevator,” Andre said. “Can I ride you?”

The Djoosicorn snorted, so Andre was going to take that as a _no_ before he got kicked. 

Eventually, Andre and Christian made it to the players’ area of the arena. Andre found the therapy rooms unlocked, a place with a bed for him and some floor mats that could be unfolded for Christian. Andre was about to ask/google if horses slept standing up, but Christian was already folding his legs underneath himself to lie down and put his head down on the mat. 

Andre stood over him, then kneeled down and pet Christian’s neck again. 

“Tomorrow we talk, okay?” Andre said. “No running around downtown like this, please.” 

He snorted again and looked at Andre. 

“Can I sleep here?” Andre asked. “You want me to?”

It had only been about twenty minutes since his human hockey player friend Christian had become his hockey player unicorn shifter friend Christian, so Andre didn’t know if his unicorn form always looked a little sad. Carly’s giant sloth form always looked sleepy, but that was how they knew it was Carly—that, and the giant sloth thing.

“Are you sad?” Andre asked. “I’m sorry I asked you to kiss me. I didn’t mean for you—for this to happen. I know shifting’s weird, you probably have a routine and stuff like Ovi does, but I didn’t know it could happen, that—”

Christian laid his head on Andre’s lap and looked up at him. 

“Okay,” Andre said. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Sleep now, okay?”

Andre gathered another mat and some pillows and stripped down to his shorts before he laid down next to Christian the unicorn.

“You’ve never stabbed anyone with that thing, have you?” Andre asked. 

Christian nudged him with his nose and put his head back down. He was asleep almost instantly, while Andre stared at him: his silver-grey body, his black hooves, the iridescent horn that still had its rainbow colors even when the only light in the room was from random electrical equipment littered around the room. Andre rested a hand against Christian and, eventually, fell asleep.

*

In the morning, Christian was still a horse and one of the trainers nudged Andre awake with his foot.

“I’m glad he finally told someone,” said Eric. 

“You knew?” Andre asked.

“He’s a late-onset shifter,” Eric said casually as he set about getting the room back in order, taking care not to wake Christian. “Said it runs in his family—no one knows if they’ll shift until they hit their twenties or so. Helluva thing for him to go through his rookie year.”

“Did he say why he didn’t tell us?”

“God, I don’t know. Stubborn as hell rookie with a language barrier and his mentors turn into the hypermasculine personifications of their home countries, like a giant wolf and a giant bear? You tell me.” 

“That’s dumb,” Andre said. He looked at Christian, still a unicorn and still sound asleep. “You hear that? You’re dumb. It’s okay, I still like you.”

Because of the unplanned shift, Christian would sleep a while longer, long enough for Andre to drive home, change, and drive to Kettler for practice. 

Before he fell asleep the night before, he had imagined that they would wake up together in their makeshift training mat bed and Christian would have shifted back to his human form. He would explain himself to Andre, and kiss him, and everything would be wonderful. Driving alone to Kettler with a large iced coffee and the reminder that his teammate-crush had exploded into his unicorn form because of one touch of Andre’s hand was… not the best way for reality to shake out. 

Andre buried it deep until Christian arrived in the Kettler locker room, showered and rushed and staring only at Andre. 

“Hi,” Christian said, ignoring everyone else in the room. “Can we talk?”

Andre didn’t respond immediately, pretending that taping his socks was more interesting than someone pleading for his attention. It immediately prompted Osh to _awwww_ at them and clutch his heart. “Trouble in paradise,” he said. “You two crazy kids are gonna be just fine.”

Andre finally stood up and let Christian lead him out of the locker room. It felt ridiculous and wrong, the way Christian had towered over him as a horse and the way Andre in his skates towered over him now. He felt clumsy and stupid, too, but he had no animal body inside him to take over the exhaustion of living for a while. 

When Christian decided they were far enough from the locker room, he turned to Andre and took a deep breath. “I’m not sorry I didn’t tell you I’m a shifter,” Christian said. “It’s not anyone’s business but mine. And the trainers, I guess, since it’s their job to know that shit, but it’s—it’s still new to me, so I didn’t want to tell anyone until I had it better under control.”

“I’m not mad you didn’t tell me you’re a shifter,” Andre said. He wanted to scuff at the floor with the toe of his shoe, but he was wearing fucking skates and everything about him was wrong. “Did I hurt you? I’m with Nicke and Ovi always, and Carly, and they shift all the time and it’s never because I touched them. And I meant what I said: I like you a lot, and I—you never touched me before. Is it me?”

“What?” Christian asked. “No? No! It’s not—no it’s not _you_ , it’s—”

There was the Djoos Andre liked so much, the little annoyed twist of his mouth, his hands combing through his hair as he thought something through and looked for the right words. 

“Okay, it’s you,” Christian finished. “But not in a bad way,” he added, in Swedish. “It’s so hard to—to stay in this little body when you’re around, and when I want you, and—and I _like you so much_ , but then I have to use this stupid tiny mouth and these stupid tiny hands to tell you and show you and I _can’t do it_ , so I made you stay in my spare room and then I shifted and I ran for hours that night, so I was tired and I didn’t have to think about all the ways you’re—” 

Christian looked up; again he had those eyes that almost broke Andre’s heart last night, a scared boy that was other side of his hilarious bitchy Djoos. 

“Look at you,” Christian said. “And look at me.”

“You can keep saying that, but I don’t know what you mean,” Andre said. “I still like you. Djoos or Djoosicorn.”

Christian laughed and shook a finger at him. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” 

“It’s bad enough I can’t step onto the ice without five guys singing _Djoooooooos_ at me and _one of them is always you_.”

“Because I like you and it makes you smile,” Andre said. “And I like when you smile.”

Christian finally looked as love-sick as Andre felt. Suddenly Andre could understand why Ovi was so eager to slap him with a hockey glove and kick him out of their house until he had told Christian everything. It was _wonderful_ , Andre thought, as he leaned down and kissed Christian. He thought he was being careful, so it was all the more surprising when Christian pulled him closer, kissing him until Andre almost lost his balance on his skates. 

Someone singing “ _DJOOOOOOOOS_ ” echoed down the corridor, Russianly, Andre thought, which narrowed it down to one of three assholes. 

“No one can call him that anymore except me!” Andre yelled back. He had his hands cupped around Christian’s face and he couldn’t help grin as Christian leaned up and kissed his nose with a very soft _absolutely not_ on his lips. 

“It’s okay everyone!” Ovi yelled back into the locker room. “The boys are in love again, we can go practice!” 

Andre tried to look exasperated, but he could only hold out for a moment—his face broke into a grin as he kissed Christian again, as Christian pulled him close again. 

*

Someone somewhere, in the legend and lore of Caps management, decided to fully embrace the number of shifters applying to enter the league every year. Where some teams “conserved resources” with a cap on the number of shifters on the roster, the Caps became known as the team with staff, trainers, and coaches at the forefront of shifters in professional sports. 

It was the only hockey culture Andre had ever known, since Sweden prided itself on a cultural baseline of “being less of a piece of shit than North America,” and had never made such a big fucking deal about shifters on their hockey rosters. It would have been weirder, even for boring Andre whose family never had shifters, to be on a team _without_ shifters. 

Part of that culture was that teams in the league were required to have one day a month set aside for “team health.” What started out as a players’ association union rule to care for the health of shifters became an opportunity for entire teams to put one day aside for physical and mental wellness. 

In the early days, shifters had a difficult time entering the league because their biology brought a “wild card” element to their rosters—someone like Ovi, their best goal scorer who also became a massive bear for a few days every month, had a souped-up metabolism and ultra-durable joints to sustain his transformations, but required more maintenance days per month. Someone like Carly, a defenseman who shifted into a giant sloth, needed workouts and game plans geared specifically towards his body that could take brutal, ruthless hits, but could never have the speed of someone like Vrana (who shifted into an imperial eagle) or—

Or Djoos, who shifted into a literal mythological horse with unbreakable hooves and maybe immortal blood, if the _Harry Potter_ books were any kind of authority on the subject. 

That month’s health retreat brought everyone together at the team’s special rural medical compound an hour out of Washington, where all the shifters would have the chance to take their animal forms and be looked over by their specialists, and all the humans would have full check-ups done, and then the whole team would come together to talk about their feelings and bond about whatever new absurdities had brought them closer or driven them apart in the past month. 

It was Andre’s _favorite_ work day because he loved people and he loved feelings and he loved his team, but this month worried Andre because it would be Djoos’s first transformation in front of the team. Djoos was, understandably, a little fucking freaked out over the teasing he expected to get for shifting into a My Little Pony character. 

“Loving teasing!” Andre said as they walked from where Christian had parked. “They love you!”

“They love _you_ ,” Christian said. “I’m the quiet Swedish weirdo you sing about and now the only other thing they know about me is that I turn into a unicorn.”

“And you’re good at hockey,” Andre said. “Remember that? Anyway, today’s a good day to do it because Ovi will be a big bear and everyone forgets how nice Ovi is when he’s a giant fucking bear. So he’ll take care of you!”

“There’s no other unicorns in my family, you know,” Christian said. Andre wanted to hold one of his hands, but Christian had dug them as far into his pockets as they would go, like he could drag himself into his grave with a little more effort. “My dad doesn’t shift. My mom shifted into a rabbit, sometimes. Her brother shifted into a parrot. All normal little pets, you know? And then last year, fuck, I’m a _fucking_ unicorn.”

“You don’t remember Latts, do you? From Hershey?”

“I’ll never forget the mini horse man,” Christian said. “He’s _nice_ , though, you saw him and said, _yeah, he’s a mini horse with a heart of gold_ , and I’m an asshole with a rainbow horn.”

“Okay, well, these are feelings you can talk about with everyone,” Andre said. 

“I can talk to you,” Christian said.

“Yeah, but you like me,” Andre said. “You don’t trust them, and you should. They’re good. They’re our team. We take care of each other.” 

“Can I transform here so I don’t have to—ugh, no I can still understand people, I’ll know everything they say. It’s dumb.”

“You can? Nicke can’t. I talk to him all the time when he’s a wolf, but he doesn’t understand the words, only like, face and body language and tone. He says he understands me while he’s a wolf.” 

Christian smirked and nudged Andre in the side. “You’re not that difficult to understand. It’s probably why shifters like you so much—you’re uncomplicated.”

“I can be complicated!” Andre protested.

“Okay, then generous.” Christian stopped and finally unclenched his fists, moving to rest his hands on Andre’s waist and pull him close for a kiss. “And handsome and funny and lots of things. I’m sorry I’m—”

“You’re not. Whatever bad thing you think you are, you're not,” Andre said, and kissed him again. “Okay, come on, let’s get it over with.”

“Get it over with? Your favorite day?”

Andre sighed. “The faster we do all the medicine stuff, the faster we can have lunch and feelings! Lunch and feelings! Just remember that: lunch and feelings.”

“I get human food, right?”

Andre showed off the tote bag over his shoulder. “I stole lots of Nicke’s tupperware for leftovers.” 

Christian laughed and lit up as he leaned in and kissed Andre again. “I have the best boyfriend.”

Andre allowed himself to look as smug as possible before they swiped their cards into the fenced-in outdoor portion of the compound and walked to where some of their team were already in their shifted forms or half-naked humans wandering from one medical station to another. 

“Okay,” Christian sighed. “Guess it’s time now.”

Andre kissed his cheek and gave him a thumbs up. Christian smiled at him, nodded at himself in determination, and shifted quickly into his unicorn form. 

Tom had been running over to greet them, then stopped in his tracks when Djoos, the grey-white horse with an iridescent horn in the center of his forehead, appeared next to Andre. 

“Um,” Tom called out. “ _That’s_ new.”

Andre had spent time with Christian in his shifted form once or twice since the night he first shifted in front of Andre, but this was his first time seeing Christian as a unicorn in front of the others. Christian was _shy_ , Andre realized, watching him take a long path around and away from Tom and the other guys slowly approaching him to look. He wanted to lower his head and avert his eyes, but he was aware of the sharp foot-long horn extending out of his head. 

“It’s okay,” Andre said as he approached Christian, stroking his mane and the side of his neck. “Come on, let’s get to the first station, okay? They’re just looking.”

“So like,” Osh said. “He… became a unicorn… _before_ you guys…”

“Yeah…” Andre said. “Why…”

“You know,” Osh said. “Unicorns. Virgins.”

Andre’s face turned red-hot as he said, “No, _I don’t_.”

“You’re doing a super good job of calming him,” Osh said. “I’m just saying! There’s something about your pure, gentle spirit that’s—mmm okay that horn’s pointing towards me so I’m gonna fucking _go_.”

“Christian won’t hurt you,” Andre said as they walked away, but he turned around out of Christian’s line of vision and mouthed _FUCK YOU_ at Oshie as they calmly walked away. 

Andre left Christian with the trainers and went to undress and start his screenings. He kept an eye on Christian as the different trainers and doctors and coaches came to him, running tests and taking measurements that they did privately before, since Christian had only participated in these retreats in his human form. He was pleased to see the other shifters approach Christian in turn. Vrana landed on a perch and chirped at him happily. Kuzya, as a red fox, climbed up on another bed and, once Christian acknowledged him, jumped over to sit on his back for a while and nose at his mane before jumping off again to bother bear Ovi and human Orlov. 

Andre and Holtz ended up getting their body fat measured at the same time. Holtz was the sole human in a family of shifters, so he glanced at Christian almost as often as Andre did while wands were run across their bodies. “Maybe it’s better, you know? Shifting late?” Holtz asked. “I mean, for his family at least, not like when my kid turned into a giant salamander at his own birthday party and disappeared for an hour.” 

“You have to ask him,” Andre said. “I think he’s still… you know, not wanting to admit he’s a unicorn sometimes.”

“Oh, well, for sure,” Holtz said. “It’s only been a few months, how many times can he have shifted? A dozen or so? My wife’s family does a big reunion every year at some island off the West Coast, like, all of them spend ten whole days in their shifted forms and then a couple of days together as people. She says it really helps her keep the two sides together, the human and the komodo dragon. The kids’ll come, too, when they’re a little older. If they spend a lot of time shifted now, it’s hard to get them to stick to being human. Language is hard, food is boring, walking and running aren’t as easy when you can just run and slither into a pond, you know? But they’ll need that time shifted as they get older.”

“Holtz, tell him that,” Andre pleaded. “You and your wife, maybe? He—his family’s so far away and his dad knows hockey but doesn’t know this, and—I don’t know. He sees you more than he sees them, and I’m stupid, I don’t know how to help.”

“You’re helping already,” Holtz said. “Just being there, being good. Being yourself. But yeah, I’ll talk to him and invite him over. It can’t be easy, keeping _all that_ to yourself.” 

“Are unicorns…” Andre gestured with his chin towards Christian, still a unicorn, moving to another station. “Are there others?”

“Uh,” Holtz laughed. “We keep some pretty unconventional circles, _and yet_.”

Andre frowned. One of the trainers pat him on the shoulder and sent him off to the next station. 

*

By the early afternoon, everyone had gone through their check-ups in both shifter form and human form, had lunch, and gathered together for their large team catch-up/therapy discussion, airing of good things and grievances and everything in between.

“So, we have some new developments since last month,” announced their meditator, Tony. “Thank you, Christian, for sharing your journey with us.”

These sessions usually took place in a meadow if it wasn’t raining, all of them sitting and stretching in a circle. Andre stretched out his legs and stuffed chunks into his mouth of the cheese biscuits he had hoarded in his hoodie pockets. Christian was sitting next to him, cross-legged on the grass with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“And we’re dating,” Christian announced. “Me and Andre. It was hard keeping the unicorn thing from him so I finally shifted and told him and now we’re dating.”

“Woo,” Andre said, and everyone laughed. Beags was next to him and clapped him on the shoulder, then ruffled his hair like he loved. 

“And how do you think you’re handling these big changes in your life?” asked Tony. “How do you think your team can support you?”

“Don’t make fun of me or I’ll turn into a giant horse and stab them?” Christian asked.

“Okay, that feels a little defensive.”

“Djoos, I’m sorry I joked around with you when you showed up today,” Osh said from across the circle. “It’s kinda my first reaction to everything and I didn’t know shifting was still so new to you. _Or_ dating Bura. We kinda thought that was like, super ongoing.” 

There was some chorus of agreement around the circle. Tony the mediator nodded thoughtfully.

“So privacy, maybe that’s something we can focus on in nurturing Christian?” Tony asked. “Maybe, if you have questions or want to offer your support, handle it one-on-one? Is that something you would better appreciate than the usual ribbing?”

“I mean.” Christian unfolded his arms from his chest and stretched out his legs in front of him. Andre, cheese biscuit in mouth, reached out and rubbed circles against his back, briefly, before turning back to stretching/letting Christian say what he had to say. 

“I guess… I want to say that I don’t want anyone to treat me differently. But I want—I don’t know what I’m doing. In hockey, yeah okay, I’m trying and playing my best, and we know how to talk to each other about hockey. I think I have to get used to… asking for things. For help and advice and how to—” He lifted his hands and clutched at his hair, laughing suddenly as he stared at everyone around the circle. “I don’t know how the fuck to be a unicorn! What the _fuck_ does that do to my game, you know?! And my _life_?”

“Super fast and hiding a big stubborn horse inside. Maybe we give you a big knife to carry in your pads on the ice,” Ovi said, making everyone laugh. “People said when you come to camp that you not big enough to play on NHL level, so you proved how stupid they were. You gonna get better every year.”

“I can’t actually become a horse on the ice,” Christian joked. 

“You’re fast, tough, and magic,” Vrana added. “That’s pretty fucking cool.”

There was more agreement around the circle, other guys adding their commentary along the lines of, “Fuck yeah” and “Beautiful magical shit, my dude,” that brought a blush creeping up Christian’s neck and up to his cheeks and ears. Andre grinned to himself. 

“Christian, do you think this was helpful?”

Christian glanced around the circle, his eyes lingering to Andre at his side, who was doing his best to look nonchalant and casual and extremely supportive. Maybe it worked; Christian nodded and looked back to Tony the mediator. “Yeah, I feel a lot better. I’m gonna try to… be open about things and ask for help.”

“Is Andre going to ask for help in not being such a big boyfriend mooch or what?” Nicke asked. 

“I cooked for him!” Andre protested. “I made sweet potatoes like Ovi showed me!”

Christian nodded enthusiastically. “He did! He used seasoning and everything!”

“The seasoning wasn’t ketchup, was it?” Madison asked. 

“No,” Andre said, because it wasn’t, but maybe ketchup would be good?

“The first time I shifted,” Vrana interrupted. “I was out after a game at World Juniors and trying to pick someone up and they touched me and I turned into an eagle and swooped out of the club and almost got caught by animal control.”

“What the shitting _fuck_ ,” Tom whispered. “What? _What_?”

“I was sixteen and really desperate and I wasn’t expecting to actually pick up!” Jakub said. 

“So what you’re saying is that you need the team dating service next,” Madison replied.

“No,” Jakub said, rubbing at his cheek as if _that_ would make the redness disappear from his face. Madison laughing and wrapping an arm around his neck did nothing to stop it, except to make Jakub look beautifully pitiful as he sat there, smothered in Madison’s bicep. 

“Okay, who’s next?” Tony asked. 

“Can I go?” Osh asked. “Hey, guys? Being a dad is REALLY hard. It’s like, SO HARD. How does literally ANYONE do this, EVER.” 

Andre settled in for supportive listening, but glanced quickly at Christian. Christian looked at him, too, and smiled at him, then _winked_ at him because there was probably no end to the surprises he had in store for Andre. Andre reached over and linked their hands together, smiling at him as they turned back to listen to the group. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/screamlet) | [reblog](http://screamlet.tumblr.com/post/172974471516/fic-romancing-the-djoosicorn)


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